Dead Frontier/Issue 129
This is Issue #129 of Dead Frontier, titled Denver. This is the third issue in Volume 22. Issue 129 - Denver Lucy hears him scream. It’s torturously vivid. She picks up her pace in response, out the house’s yard and into a reckless street. People mill around in confusion; others run, like her. A group of men with guns fire wildly into a mass of infected. A group of unarmed people is huddled behind them, and Lucy soon figures out they’re being protected, hopefully led somewhere safe. She sneaks herself into the unarmed group, jogging alongside a man with long dark hair. “Do you know...where they’re taking us?” she asks between heavy breaths. The man looks to her, blue shadows under his eyes, and a flash of recognition crosses his face. “Oh. Hey there,” he says a bit too cheerfully. He’s quick to realize Lucy doesn’t know who he is. He wouldn’t really expect her to, either, with the current situation. “You don’t remember me? I’m offended.” She takes a second to think. “Sleeptalker guy?” she guesses. She vaguely remembers him apologizing to her and Cole throughout the night for his uncontrollable muttering. Night terrors, he proclaimed. “Yeah. Andrew." "Lucy." "I've got...no idea where they're takin' us. I'm just following along. They've got the guns and I don't." She doesn't look to be in the mood for talking, with her bloodshot eyes and barely noticable tracks of tears. But he needs to do something to keep himself together. "You seen these things before?" "I've heard about them but...n-no. Not before this," she says. She has to raise her voice over the screaming and gunshots, but even then Andrew can barely hear her. He opens his mouth to respond, but they stop short as the crowd before them comes to a halt. There's an obnoxious series of honks, and from down the road a convoy of large trucks, covered in military-style camouflage, run over some of the infected with ease. They brake suddenly, and, from each one, a figure in a dark uniform slips out of the driver's seat. They head around to the back of the trucks and open up the heavy doors. People are ushered inside, as more men with guns exit the trucks and fire into the steadily approaching herd. Lucy, her arm instinctively locked around Andrew's, follows him into the back of one of the vehicles. The interior is so much larger than what she would have expected, and she slides in close next to a shivering man and woman, arms wrapped around each other. The truck is filled quickly, with armed and unarmed alike, until the space is uncomfortably cramped. People throw out questions to the uniformed men, but they go unanswered, and the doors are soon slammed shut. There’s no light, but it doesn’t take long for anyone’s vision to adjust to the dark. Nervous mumbles mix in with gunshots and the truck’s overly-loud engine. “H-hey,” Andrew says. “I think they might be taking us to Denver.” He’s still breathing hard, and sweating, from that unexpected amount of running. Lucy looks up at him. “How do you know that?” she asks. “The uniforms. Look at that guy.” He points to one of the uniformed men, a rifle sitting in his lap. His face is stoic as he looks at one of the truck’s walls. “The--the insignia on his arm. They’ve all got it. I fuckin’ had one when I lived there. They’re a part of the...I guess you’d consider it their National Guard or some shit. Surprised they’re helping us…” He says that last part a little louder than the rest, and the uniformed man gives him a quick glance. The man turns away soon after. Andrew notices that Lucy doesn’t look surprised by this revelation. Or excited or relieved. She’s completely impassive, and Andrew tries to read her. “Oh. Oh, shit,” he says, once he realizes Cole’s absence. He runs a hand through his hair, then scratches his head. This seems to elicit the first semblance of emotion he’s seen from her today. “Man...don’t tell me that Pruitt guy…” He trails off, hit with a pang of sadness he hasn’t felt in so long. All because of a stranger, a guy he barely knew. Lucy’s look isn’t making it any better. He can practically see every emotion cross her face in those few seconds it takes for the last of her resolve to disintegrate. Absolute rage. Denial. He can’t remember the last time he saw grief that heavy. It doesn’t take long for her cover her face with her palms, all eyes in the truck turning to her as she begins to weep loudly. Andrew’s unsure of what to do. He hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. She doesn’t react to it, it doesn’t make her feel better in the slightest, but she accepts it. ---- Heidi Kastner watches a row of television monitors. She struggles to keep her face emotionless, but her eyes give away every ounce of her anxiety. Clusters of screaming infected terrorize the area right outside Denver’s walls, and a few trucks are returning, presumably with residents of the Outskirts. She has no idea what to do. She sent those trucks out to rescue whoever they could when word got to her about the herd. What makes it so much worse is that this isn’t a normal herd, the ones they’re so used to, but one composed mostly of this...new breed she doesn’t even know what to call. She’s suddenly rethinking her decision. She knows letting these rejects back in here isn’t going to sit well with half the population, but leaving them to fend for themselves wasn’t even an option; there’s no way they would be able to, with their meager armory and overflow of deplorable citizens. “Open the gates. Let them in,” she orders, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. A few men behind her scramble out the door on their left. Natesh Verma, a large man with a well-groomed moustache, takes a step forward. He looks over Heidi’s shoulder, at the monitors, and gives his head a slight shake before exiting the room as well. ---- Lucy waits impatiently in the long line, rubbing her hands together in the blistering cold. She, Andrew, and the rest of the inhabitants of the truck have just been dropped off in front of a large black building. The line proceeds excruciatingly slowly, and she ignores Andrew as he mutters complaints about the weather, the waiting. Finally, they make it inside, only to wait for another forty five minutes or so. The shining hall, its fluorescent lights beaming, seems to stretch on forever. Soon, at the end of it, she and Andrew can see two uniformed men directing people either left or right. They confiscate bags, too, doing a quick check before giving them back. After a woman is ordered to go left, Lucy is up next. “Your bag,” the fatter of the men demands. He holds his hand out, and Lucy obeys by pulling off her backpack and handing it to him. She breathes on her hands to return some of the warmth into her fingers, and the man proceeds to search through her bag. He takes out the items slowly, inspecting them closely, and tosses them on the table. A few energy bars, some toilet paper, an old magazine, other random items. And then, he pulls out a notebook. Holding it in his hand, he freezes and looks up at Lucy with a concerned expression. She seems to have tensed up at the sight of the notebook, and she stares at it. His suspicions rise immediately. “Everything okay, miss?” he asks, and she’s suddenly pulled from her trance. She’d completely forgotten that his notebook was in there. She gives her head a slight shake in attempts to pull herself together. “Yeah. Everything’s fine,” she assures. The man gives her one last odd look and tosses the notebook on the table carelessly. “Be careful,” she snaps at him, but she soon regrets it. He doesn’t take kindly to someone giving him orders who, he presumes, is just another worthless refugee from those dejected outskirts. He checks the rest of the items, and then returns each one back into the bag. He picks up the notebook, gives Lucy a smug look, and stuffs it inside with unnecessary roughness. “Head to the left, please,” he says. She scoffs at him and snatches the bag. “You’re welcome.” “Asshole,” she spews at him before going down the left corridor, and he lets out a hefty laugh. As she stomps away, Andrew jogs to catch up with her. “You used to work with these people?” she asks, almost disgusted. “Y-yeah. They’re not all bad,” he says, a bit defensively. There’s another line this way, and they stop to wait again. “There’s always the assholes. Don’t mind ‘em.” He sighs and leans against the wall. “Look, I know this place is--it’s gonna be hard to get used to.” “I’m not getting used to it. I’m not staying here.” “You’re not? Then why the hell were you--” “We needed a place to stay for the night. After that, we were gonna go. To Los Angeles. That was our goal in the first place.” He looks dumbfounded. “Damn. I--I’ve seen videos and shit but--” “Next!” someone yells from down the corridor. “You know about it?” Lucy asks. “Hell yeah I know about it,” Andrew says, his tone hushed for some reason. “I’ll tell you everything, let’s just--get through this.” ---- Heidi rushes through the front doors of an obscure black building. She pushes through the lines of people, some of them flashing her dirty looks that she ignores. She reaches a pair of pure black double doors, revealing an auditorium-like setting. Tons of people are gathered around, searching nervously for loved ones they can’t seem to find. Someone grabs at her, sobbing, but she’s forced to push them away as gently as she can. Several tables are set up, and women at computers type frantically as people shout their names, and they enter them into some kind of database. Heidi walks to the opposite end of the room; she knows not everyone can see her, but still, she has to address them sooner than later. She taps the guard to her right and urges him to get everyone’s attention. “Hey!” he shouts, surprisingly loud. The room’s volume diminishes to a hush, and all heads turn to their direction. “Thank you,” she says to him, and then she turns her attention to the crowd. Adam departs from one of the tables and watches as this woman begins to speak, her demeanor at the same time professional but concerned. He doesn’t know how he’s kept himself together so long--he still hasn’t seen anyone he knows, and as much as he scans the room, he can’t spot a familiar face. Until he hears a voice from behind him. Adam turns, and immediately Daniel scoops him into a hug, lifting him a few inches off the ground. “Someone I fucking know!” Daniel explains, setting Adam down. Tora stands behind him, her eyes teary, and Adam embraces her next. “Are you okay? Have you seen anyone else?” she asks. He pulls away, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m fine but--I haven’t seen anyone, not yet. I--I keep looking, but--” He cuts himself off and runs a hand over his head. “Let’s just listen to her. She looks like she knows what the hell she’s doing.” They turn to Heidi, although they’ve already missed the beginning of her speech. “---will be taken to the hospital. Everyone,” she says. She has to raise her voice considerably as she speaks. “It’s just procedure, and the more you cooperate, the easier this will be for everyone. You’ll be supplied a temporary residence as well so please--work with us. Thank you.” She forces a smile and takes a deep breath as she delves back into the crowd, toward the exit. The guard follows her out, and when she passes, Adam grabs her by the arm. He doesn’t mean it as a hostile gesture, but the guard raises his rifle. “Phillips, please,” Heidi says, and she raises her hand. The guard backs off, and she looks to Adam. “Can I help you, sir?” “I-I’m looking for people,” Adam says. “I had a whole group and most of them--I don’t know if they’re here or--or--” “Anyone we found alive, we’ve sent them here. If they’re injured you might find them at the hospital. There are a few trucks outside waiting to take people there, so if you’ve checked in--” She points at the women at the computers. “--you’re free to go. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know where your friends are.” She looks down, where Adam still grips her forearm. “Sorry,” he mutters, and he lets go. “Thank you.” ---- Adam, Daniel, and Tora are transported to the hospital. It’s a short trip that takes less than ten minutes, but the scene there is just as hectic. Those plagued by bites, broken bones, or other maladies are pulled away on gurneys. A man in that familiar uniform stands at the doors, guiding people that aren’t injured over to the right. When Adam asks why, the man only responds with a stoic expression. The room they’re directed to is just an oversized waiting area, where people sit in chairs, some roaming around in aimless confusion. Daniel and Tora follow Adam through the mass of people, when Adam suddenly stops. “Look. Look,” he urges, pointing. A girl stands, holding onto the arm of a young woman. “Lienne! Ivy!” Adam calls out, a smile on his face. They turn to him, their faces absolutely dejected, but when they see him their spirits appear to be lifted somewhat. When he gets closer, he sees more figures come into view: Lucy, Jake, and Andrew--a man he doesn’t recognize that stands awkwardly near them, his hair and beard ragged and dark. Lienne is the first he embraces; she cringes as he gives her a squeeze, her wound still irritating her. Tora releases Ivy from a hug, then looks up at Lienne. “Why didn’t you tell them you were hurt?” Tora asks Lienne. “Ivy would’ve been on her own. I--I couldn’t just leave her,” Lienne says. “Now they won’t let me back out to get help.” Tora sighs, almost disappointed, but she can’t really be angry. Then, Adam looks to Lucy, his unexpected smile fading quickly. Her arms are crossed and her eyes, so desolate and filled with tears, avert to the ground as soon as he looks at her. She takes a few sporadic, sharp breaths. His heart drops, and he walks over to her hesitantly. “Lucy--hey,” he says shakily. He pulls her into a tight hug, and he stalls, afraid to ask the question. Instead, he skirts around it. “Did--did they need to take a look at his knee or something?” She hesitates, then hugs him a little tighter to uphold her composure. “No,” she says, her voice slightly muffled by her shoulder. He feels his knees go weak. “Oh.” He swallows hard. “Where is he?” From behind him, someone starts to cry. He recognizes that it comes from Lienne, but she tries to stop herself quickly and wipes at her cheeks. Jake follows soon after, the tears unstoppable, and he ends up sitting on the floor with his knees pulled close to him. He realizes that they must already know. Daniel and Tora put the pieces together quickly, and Daniel puts an arm around her. “Where is he?” Adam repeats a little more harshly. “He couldn’t get out--he’s dead,” Lucy says. He didn’t know a couple words could make it feel like he’d been hit by a freight train. He determines that Lucy must be all cried out, or still numbed by the shock, because she doesn’t make a sound after that. He embraces her a little more tightly--it’s more for him than anything, because he knows once he opens his eyes and lets go, and sees that Cole isn’t standing right next to him, he’s not going to be okay. ---- “Jake. Jake, man, look at me. Come on,” Adam urges, sitting next to Jake on the cold floor. “Fuck off,” Jake says, and he takes a some shaky breaths. He can’t hold back the few sobs that escape him every couple seconds. Adam puts a hand on his shoulder, but Jake shrugs it off. And just like that, he’s gone. It seems so surreal to Jake. He’s experienced it before--having someone you care about there one second, then gone the next--but it doesn’t feel easier this time. Out of all people, it had to be Cole. Repeating the fact that he's dead over and over again in his mind still doesn't make it any more plausible. A question suddenly pops into his head, and he looks up. He stares directly at Lucy, who sits in a chair across from him. She has that bag wrapped in her arms like it could jump away any second. “What h-happened?” Jake asks her. He wipes his messy face with the sleeve of his jacket. “She probably doesn’t wanna talk about it, man,” Adam says. “Just calm down, alright?” “What happened to h-him? Why are y-you here and not h-him?” “''Jake'',” Adam warns. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stands, expecting Jake to follow, but Jake stays where he is. Lucy looks at him blankly, baffled that he actually expects her to answer that question. But his expression tells her that he absolutely does. “He was too slow, and we got separated from everyone else,” she starts off slowly, surprisingly steady. “He got bit--and he told me to go. With--with the knee he couldn’t--” “You l-left him?” She tries to justify her decision in her mind--he wanted her to go. He asked her to. But the accusation in Jake’s voice suddenly drowns her in guilt. “You left him,” Jake says, and this time it isn’t a question. He stands, takes a few powerful steps forward, but Adam grabs him by the arm. “You left him!” He’s screaming it wildly, repeatedly. Lucy can do nothing but stare down at the floor as a slew of eyes turn their direction. Jake concentrates every bit of anger he has toward her, his hate boiling over until he can’t even control it anymore. His screams die down into soft sobs, and Adam pulls him close. ---- Another of those same trucks drops off Hunter and Farrah, along with a number of other frightened people, in front of the hospital. He helps her out and holds her up by flinging her arm over his shoulder. Her eyes are drooping and she looks to be on the verge of passing out. But he won’t let her. “It’s just your ankle, love. You’ll be fine,” he assures. “Try to keep your eyes open, though, alright?” She gives a nearly imperceptible nod of her head, and he leads her into the hospital as a guard opens the doors for them. The scene is wild, with the injured and doctors mulling around and trying to bring some order to the place. “Someone help her, please!” Hunter shouts, but no one comes to his aid. And he can see why. Others’ injuries are so much worse: he sees a woman lying on the floor, missing half of her face. Another man presses his palm to a bite wound on his bicep. “This woman needs help, too!” Finally, after only a few minutes that seem to last so much longer, a young woman, whom he assumes is a nurse, rushes to him. “I’ll take her from you,” she says urgently. “I’ll help you,” Hunter offers. “No,” the woman says. “You can’t go back there. There’s a waiting area right over there. She’ll be fine.” Hunter’s anxiety only escalates because of her tone, but with no other choice, he hands over Farrah. He watches with his hands set on top of his head as Farrah is led away, her foot dragging uselessly on the floor. He can’t believe how quickly things have spun out of control. He doesn’t know how to suppress this sudden wave of emotions, especially this rapid anger that’s been building up since he saw that herd back in the Outskirts. He punches out the window to his right with a yell, then brings his bloody and glass-ridden fist close to his abdomen. He seethes at the pain. He feels a hand grab onto his shoulder, and he spins around angrily. “Sir--” says a guard, and he jumps back when Hunter turns on him. “What?!” Hunter screams. “What the fuck do you want?!” “Sir, please, calm down.” “Why the fuck would I calm down you blockheaded shit?!” The guard’s jaw clenches, and he grabs at the walkie talkie on his shoulder. “There’s a disturbance in the hospital--” “Fuck you. Fuck you and your disturbances,” Hunter spits at him. He pushes past the guard, toward the waiting area just a little ways away. But as he walks, he feels the guard grab onto the back of his shirt. He just wants to be left alone. This really isn’t the time to irritate him. Hunter turns on him and gives the guard a heavy shove. The guard is so large it barely affects him, but the flash of anger that crosses his face tells Hunter that he made the wrong decision. The guard grabs Hunter by the throat and slams him against the wall. Hunter pulls wildly at his arms, attempting to release his grip, but it’s no use; the guard is so much stronger. Adam notices the ruckus from deep within the crowd of people. Curious faces start to gather, but no one reacts to the commotion. Adam approaches, and once he sees Hunter trying, in vain, to defend himself against the guard, he rushes over out of instinct, and Daniel follows close behind. “Hey--''hey''!” Adam calls out. The guard completely ignores his presence. “Let him go! What the hell are you doing?!” “He--attacked me!” the guard shouts. Daniel reacts immediately, taking the guard by the shoulder and pulling him away from Hunter. Hunter slumps to the ground, back leaning against the wall, and he holds his reddened and sore throat. He gasps for breath, but still watches with a lopsided smile on his face as Daniel screams at the guard. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” Daniel asks the guard, veins popping out of his neck. The guard actually looks afraid, and he gives Daniel a push. Daniel reluctantly lets him out of his grasp. “Tell him to watch his temper,” the guard mutters, and he turns away, smoothing down the newly-acquired wrinkles on his dark uniform. ---- Duke looks around the dark and cramped truck. Cedric and Dean sit on his left, while Karl sits to his right. He’s lucky to have gotten into this truck at all; it was one of the last one’s deployed, and they, consequently are the last ones to arrive into Denver. “Hey, man, you okay?” Duke asks, nudging Cedric. He groans, holding his head, obviously still feeling the effects of Hunter’s beating. However, he waves off Duke’s concerns. “Fine, thanks,” Cedric mutters. Duke doesn’t even bother to ask Dean how he’s doing. He’s a shivering, blabbering mess in the corner, so obviously traumatized. Luckily Duke was there to guide him out of the warehouse; otherwise, he’s not sure if Dean would be here. Karl taps on the knee of the uniformed man sitting next to him. “Excuse me. Sir,” Karl says, and the man looks to him. “Are you--actually planning to take us in?” “Yes,” the man replies succinctly. “Kastner’s orders.” “She approved this?” “That she did. Better kiss her feet when you see her. Saved every single one of you.” He spits out that last part as if he doesn’t approve. Like he’s only here because he was ordered to be. Karl gives him a quick look of disapproval before turning away again. Those dreams of Los Angeles might be gone for good now. Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories